Gaara's Therapy Session
by Seiji and Shizuku 4ever
Summary: Someone was seriously not thinking straight when they set up Gaara an appointment with a therapist. Does this poor guy really know what he's getting into? And can Gaara sort through his many problems? Oneshot/semi-crackfic.


**A/N: Hey y'all! I thought it was about time I wrote a story about mah guy Gaara! x3 It's not that good since I got the inspiration from an episode of The Suite Life on Deck (if you've guys seen it, y'all know what I'm talking about xD), but it was sooo fun and hilarious to write. Hope you guys like it! ^_^ I really wanna experiment more with Team Gaara, they're epic! *o***

**Btw, this takes place earlier in the original Naruto- back when Gaara's a freaky emo monster. But I luvs him anyways. 8D *hugglez***

**Disclaimer: I dun own Naruto or any part of it. Eez too aweshum to be mine. Besides, if I did own Naruto, Sari would go boom. And Gaara would have eyebrows. 8D**

* * *

The atmosphere was cold and silent. Just the way Gaara preferred it.

"Now, Gaara," the therapist cleared his throat, almost unable to conceal his fear, "let's talk about your phobias." He reached over and took the list of obsessions Gaara had given him prior to beginning the appointment. When he did so, the short slip of paper unfolded and unfolded and unfolded. It reached the floor, then rolled across the ground and out the door.. and kept going. The therapist's eye twitched.

By his best estimate, this would take a while..

He suppressed a sigh and glanced Gaara's way, who sat calmly in that recliner-thing, a protective hand on his gourd. "Let's cover the first few for today, alright?" Clearly expecting an answer, he sat waiting for Gaara's reply but was unrewarded. He was greeted with no response from the ginger. He cleared his throat again, awkwardly. "O-k.. let's see. Nothing, nothing, nothing.." He stopped and raised an eyebrow at Gaara. "Is that all that's on here?"

"I fear nothing."

"Um.. alright, let's begin with your obsessions instead. We'll get back to that later. Now.." He glanced at his notepad. "..Killing to live and living to kill..?" He blanched.

Gaara nodded slowly. "That's where my existance dwells, in killing others. It makes me feel alive."

"...How do-do you feel about that?" The therapist choked out, voice wavering but his trademark cheesy smile still plastered on his face.

Gaara sideglanced at him blankly. "I don't like repeating things twice. I already told you- it makes me feel alive." He scrutinized the therapist, as if contemplating his next kill.

"R-Right." The therapist clapped his hands together and rubbed them nervously. "Well, probe back into your mind, your memories. Has there been any traumatic experience, any at all, to make you feel that way? Sometimes the mind can warp a particular thought or emotion into something overblown."

"My entire life has been a traumatic experience," Gaara responded stoically, his teal eyes void of emotion. "My father sealed the demon of an ancient Sand monk named Shukaku into me while I was still in my mother's womb. I destroyed the life of the woman who gave birth to me on the very day I came to be. I grew into one to be feared among my people. My mother's brother was my only source of comfort for a time, but I soon learned you can't hold onto people for too long.. they fail you or get in the way. He was sent by my father and his hatred for me to kill me, taking his own life in the process. My father has attempted time after time to rid of me, but this sand is both a blessing and a curse. My own name means that I love only myself, which is true enough. I lived in fear for most of my life, but then I realized that my purpose for living is to kill others. To live without a purpose is just as good as being dead. Death to others brings me life. I kill without a second thought. I'd even kill my own siblings, if need be, if they get in my way. I simply love no one but myself."

The therapist was shaking like a leaf by the time Gaara finished. "I-I-I see. But d-don't you think there's more to l-life than t..than that?"

"Not for me, there isn't. I'm perfectly content. And if you try to convince me otherwise, I'll kill you too and be done with it."

The therapist gulped, eyes bulging in terror. He didn't even try to maintain his empty smile. "A-Alright. Consider that discussion finished." With quavering hands, he struggled to snatch back the list. "Let's talk about your f..fear of nothing." He would probably need a therapist of his own after this.

"Very well."

The therapist scanned over the extremely looong list, then saw a word near the end that stuck out as he was skimming. It stood out in the midst of nothings.

"You're scared of... bananas?"

Gaara's eyes narrowed and he sat up on impulse. The therapist cringed and attempted to shield himself with his hands defensively. Seconds ticked by, and as nothing happened, the therapist dared to peek out between his trembling fingers. Gaara sat coolly, staring hard at him. "Yes."

"B-But.. I thought you were afraid of nothing."

"I do. I fear nothing _and _bananas."

"B-B-Bananas? Why? A personal experience?" The therapist dared to ask.

"No. Bananas just simply gnash their teeth at me in my sleep, pulsing me with terror." Gaara said this slowly and nonchalantly as if he was talking about normal dull stuff.

The therapist gawked at him, jaw dropped. "I...I beg...your pardon?" The way he asked, he made it sound as if he was asking for permission.

Gaara spoke evenly as if he was consulting a child. "Bananas-just-simply-gnash-their-teeth-at-me-in-my-sleep-pulsing-me-with-terror."

"But bananas don't even have tee-" The therapist cut himself off, thinking better of it. "You know what, that's great and perfectly normal! But I'd like to run a few things by you first."

"Such as?"

"It's simple. I'm just going to show you some pictures and you tell me what you see. Can you do that?"

"I'm tolerant, not stupid."

"Right, right. Of course. Very sorry. Don't kill me, please!" The therapist swallowed hard and uncomfortably tugged on the cuff of his shirt before nervously inching closer and holding up a picture of the Sand emblem. "What do you see here?"

"A banana."

"How could yo... ok, ok. That's normal for one in your state. What about here?" He held up a picture of a black hourglass.

"A group of bananas, getting ready for me to slip on them."

The therapist sweatdropped and held up the final picture, inwardly facepalming. It was in the shape of a woman. "What about this one?"

"My mother."

"Oh, good," the therapist sighed in relief.

"Getting ready to stab me with a banana," Gaara added, deadpan.

The therapist twitched, then let out a manical laugh. He threw the papers up in the air after shredding them with his bare hands. "You know what? Heck with this! Five years in psychology isn't worth this! You're hopeless! A hopeless case! A freak of nature! That's what you are and all you'll ever be! You're beyond help!" He pointed a finger in Gaara's direction, a crazed glint in his eyes.

Gaara studied him with no reaction at all before raising his hand. "You're just like all the others." Sand inched out of the gourd and gradually surrounded the therapist as Gaara stoically clenched his fist.

"Sand coffin."

* * *

_**KAPOOSH!**_

An explosion shook the building as grains of sand flew out the now-broken windows.

"Oh, not again," Temari groaned from outside where she stood waiting with Kankuro. "That's the third one this week! Where are we going to find _another _therapist?"

Kankuro smirked and studied his nails before answering. "Hey, don't look at me. I'm just surprised Gaara made it this long."

"True enough, considering that the first time Gaara went to therapy, he blew up the psychologist within minutes upon entering when forced to talk about his 'problems'." Temari made sure to emphasize the last word with air quotes.

Kankuro nodded with a shiver. "Now _that _I remember. Brutal. Good times."

They turned as footsteps crunched their way toward the building. "I'm here for my three o'clock!"

Orochimaru turned to meet the dumbfounded stares of Temari and Kankuro. "What? This guy's a genius! He helps me with my obsessions of snakes, world domination, dresses, and purple guyliner." The duo looked even more incredulous. "And children," Orochimaru added in a cough.

"What a pedo," Kankuro coughed to his sister, mimicking Orochimaru.

"Hey! I heard that, you clown! Maybe you need to see a therapist for _your _obsession with purple makeup, too!"

"Why I aughta..!" Kankuro scowled.

Temari sighed and rubbed her temples. Today she'd have to tolerate and/or babysit _three _children.

This must be her lucky day.


End file.
